


Well, it's the Middle of the Night

by writing_way_too_much



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, set during the part in non-stop where hamilton visits burr in the middle of the night, so most of the dialogue is the lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_way_too_much/pseuds/writing_way_too_much
Summary: Hamilton comes to Burr's door in the middle of the night. Burr is sort of in love with Hamilton.





	Well, it's the Middle of the Night

Burr can’t quite believe his eyes.

“Alexander?”

Why the hell is Hamilton on his doorstep at one a.m.? He knows the guy is hardcore, but this is just plain ridiculous.

“Aaron Burr, sir,” Hamilton says, slightly out of breath. Burr finds that strangely attractive and mentally slaps himself.

“Well, it’s the middle of the night,” Burr says, trying to convey his irritation and failing dismally. He sounds more amused than anything.

“Can we confer, sir?”

_ You can always confer with me _ , Burr thinks, and then goes back on it.  _ He’s married, you idiot, and kind of hates you. _

“Is this a legal matter?” Burr asks, figuring that Hamilton doesn’t have much else on his mind lately.

“Yes, and it’s important to me,” Hamilton says. He’s got that passionate look in his eyes, a sort of fire. Burr looks away so he doesn’t get drawn in.

“What do you need?” he asks, and he manages to sound tired and annoyed this time. Hamilton always takes, never giving anything in return, and Burr would have stopped catering to him a long time ago if he wasn’t so smitten with the man.

Burr really doesn’t want to think about that right now, at night, with Hamilton on his doorstep, looking strangely vulnerable, because that’s definitely going to lead to something Burr will regret.

“Burr, you’re a better lawyer than me,” Hamilton says.

Burr allows himself to bask in the glory of finally, finally, finally having beat Hamilton at something, but only for a split second.

“Okay,” he says cautiously.

“I know I talk too much,” Hamilton continues, and damn, that’s the understatement of the century. The guy never shuts up. “I’m abrasive. You’re incredible in court.”

Burr’s mind strays to a few other ways Hamilton could be saying that sentence and he digs his nails into his palms. He’s going to blame that on the late hour.

“You’re succinct, persuasive. My client needs a strong defense, and you’re the solution.”

“Who’s your client?” Burr asks.

“The new U.S. Constitution?”

Hamilton phrases it as a question, knowing what Burr’s answer is going to be before he gives it.

“No.”

“Hear me out,” Hamilton starts.

“No  _ way _ !”

“A series of essays, anonymously published, defending the document to the public,” Hamilton continues. Who does he think he’s fooling? Everybody will be able to tell it’s Hamilton. He’s the only one who writes that much.

“No one will read it,” Burr says, trying to dissuade Hamilton from this ridiculous idea.

“I disagree.” Of course he does.

“And if it fails?”

“Burr, that’s why we need it,” Hamilton says, and Burr can tell that he’s starting to lose his patience.  _ Good.  _ Maybe he’ll go away and Burr can stop thinking thoughts that’ll get him hanged.

“The constitution’s a mess,” he argues, and he’s right, it is, but Hamilton’s a mess as well, so he doesn’t know why he thinks this approach will work.

“So it needs amendments,” Hamilton admits.

_ It needs to be completely scrapped and rewritten. _ “It’s full of contradictions.” Surely Hamilton can’t refute that.

“So is independence.” Burr’s underestimated Hamilton. Again. “We have to start somewhere.”

“No. No way.” Burr is done with this infuriating man, done with his endless arguments, done with his unfairly attractive figure and far too kissable lips.

“You’re making a mistake,” Hamilton warns, and Burr doesn’t give a damn if he is. God knows he’s made enough already. One more won’t hurt.

“Good night,” he says firmly, and goes to close the door. If he has to stare at Hamilton for a second longer, he’s going to do something he will regret.

“Hey!” Hamilton says, louder than is necessary. He sticks a foot in the way of the door and pushes it back open. “What are you waiting for? What do you stall for?”

“What?” Burr can’t believe his ears. Why does Hamilton still care about this? Why can’t he just leave him alone?

“We won the war, what was it all for? Do you support this constitution?”

There’s a right answer and a wrong answer here. Burr finds himself wanting to give the right one, wanting to satisfy Hamilton, even though he should give the wrong one. “Of course,” he lies.

“Then defend it,” Hamilton challenges. Crap. He’s seen through him.

“And what if you’re backing the wrong horse?” Burr shoots back, his words clipped with the growing anger he can’t quite suppress.

“Burr,” can he please stop saying his name because it’s making him weak in the knees, “we studied, and we fought, and we killed, for the notion of a nation we now get to build!” He can tell how much Hamilton wants him to agree with him and support him but he just  _ can’t _ . “For once in your life, take a stand with pride. I don’t understand how you stand to the side--”

Burr’s done.

Of course Hamilton doesn’t. It’s in his genetic code to be right in the middle of everything. 

“I’ll keep all my plans close to my chest,” he fires back, and he’s mad now, the anger bubbling up inside and spilling over.  _ Especially my plans for you. Which can never be known.  _ “I’ll wait here and see which way the wind will blow. I’m taking my time, watching the afterbirth of a nation, watching the tension grow--”

“Tension? You want to talk about tension?” Hamilton mutters, and that’s it, Burr can’t stand it any longer.

He steps back into his house and Hamilton steps in, closing the door behind him.

“Can I…”

Hamilton nods.

Burr pushes him up against the door and kisses him.

It’s like an argument as their mouths find each other, both fighting for dominance, and to Burr’s surprise, Hamilton lets him take control.

He kisses him like his life depends on it, and Hamilton lets him.

For once, Burr takes and Hamilton gives.

Burr’s drunk on power, drunk on the way Hamilton melts under his touch, drunk on the taste of Hamilton’s mouth and the smoothness of his skin.

Hamilton responds beautifully to everything Burr does, and there’s a slight fear in the back of Burr’s mind that his daughter is going to hear them, but he can’t bring himself to care because the little moans Hamilton makes are the best sounds he’s ever heard.

Eventually, they stop kissing.

“I’m still not going to help you with those essays,” Burr says quietly, and Hamilton laughs, a low noise.

“I didn’t think so.”

Hamilton fixes his hair, straightens his coat, and tips his head to Burr. “Goodnight, Aaron Burr. Sir.”

“Goodnight,” Burr says.

Hamilton opens the door and leaves, and Burr watches his small retreating figure as long as he can see it. 

They never speak of that night.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated, and they fuel me. remember, you don't have to be signed in to leave kudos or a comment :)
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr @fluffmilton


End file.
